This intimate and fruitful conversation was interrupted by the sound of two pairs of steps just outside, and before Withers had had time to say “Mrs. Plaistow,” Diva burst in.
“They have both taken the 11.20 tram,” she said, and sank into the nearest chair.
“Together?” asked Miss Mapp, feeling a sudden chill of disappointment at the thought of a duel with pistols trailing off into one with golf clubs.
“Yes, but that’s a blind,” panted Diva. “They were talking and laughing together. Sheer blind! Duel among the sand-dunes!”
“Padre, it is your duty to stop it,” said Miss Mapp faintly.
“But if the pistols are in a portmanteau——” he began.
“What portmanteau?” screamed Diva, who hadn’t heard about that.
“Darling, I’ll tell you presently,” said Miss Mapp. “That was only a guess of mine, Padre. But there’s no time to lose.”
“But there’s no tram to catch,” said the Padre. “It has gone by this time.”
“A taxi then, Padre! Oh, lose no time!”